


Nothing but Reruns

by Barbarismbeginsathome



Category: Death Machine (1994)
Genre: Everyone lives, Fluff, Gen, Just blatantly cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 09:12:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbarismbeginsathome/pseuds/Barbarismbeginsathome
Summary: Hospitals are boring places.





	Nothing but Reruns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karvolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karvolf/gifts).



> Happy birthday, dude!

Raimi had officially run out of things to do. He’d chewed the nail of his ring finger until it bled and throbbed, tender and sore, whenever he applied even the slightest pressure. 

He’d brushed, braided and unbraided Weyland’s hair for hours until it had gone more greasy than shiny, hanging lank over Weyland’s good eye while they watched reruns of Friends. 

He’d thumbed through one of the paperbacks from the waiting room, but found himself reading the same line over and over until now, when he finally put it down and resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing to do but stare at Yutani’s pale, unmoving body in the hospital bed. 

Weyland sighed. “You’re faking it, Adam. Come on, knock it off and free up the bed for someone who’s really sick.” It was an attempt at a joke, but Raimi knew they both hoped it was true. Yutani had lost so much blood, had gone without breathing for so long, that it was impossible for anyone to tell them when he’d wake up. 

And on that note, it was impossible for anyone to tell them if he’d still be him if he woke up. He’d heard somewhere- probably in one of the reader’s digest magazines laying around - that sometimes people woke up from comas speaking different languages, or with completely new personalities. 

Who knew if they’d know him when (not if,  
please not if) he came back to them?

New Yutani might be as shocked by his tattoo as the poor nurse who’d tried to wash it off had been. Raimi felt himself smiling at the thought, and when he glanced over at Weyland, he saw his friend was smiling too. 

“What?” 

Weyland stood, his long legs clumsily knocking over the plastic chair as he scrambled to Yutani’s bedside, grinning now. 

“Weyland, What?” Raimi repeated, feeling an overwhelming sense of panic filling his stomach. He’d read about hysterical laughter, how sometimes grief could make the mind play tricks, what if-

“Change the channel, nothing but reruns.” The voice was hoarse and slurred from three weeks without use, but it was unmistakable. 

Raimi heard himself crying before he felt the tears, and he buried his face against Yutani’s chest, taking in the low vibrations of his voice. He felt a hand, attached to an IV line, run through his hair. 

“Always so dramatic, both of you.” Yutani mumbled. “Now take me home, I can already tell I’ve lost muscle. The human body is not meant to be sedentary—“

This was not New Yutani, and Raimi had never been more grateful.


End file.
